


Embrace of the Dragon

by heeroluva



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood, Blood Drinking, Community: spn_reversebang, Dragons, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Tails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-10
Updated: 2011-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:12:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is offered to a dragon. The dragon finds that Dean's more than just an offering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embrace of the Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://spn-reversebang.livejournal.com/profile)[**spn_reversebang**](http://spn-reversebang.livejournal.com/). Sorry for the delay. There were technical difficulties. Thanks to [](http://meteorfire.livejournal.com/profile)[**meteorfire**](http://meteorfire.livejournal.com/) for going over this multiple times after googledocs ate the chages. HUGE thanks to [](http://smut_slut.livejournal.com/profile)[**smut_slut**](http://smut_slut.livejournal.com/) for the amazing art that inspire this. Also thanks to the mods for putting this together as it's a huge undertaking. All mistakes are mine. Feel free to let me know if you see any. As always feedback is appreciated.
> 
> See the rest of the amazing art [**here!**](http://smut-slut.livejournal.com/101589.html)

Sam noted the position of the sun with both trepidation and excitement as he jumped into the air, his powerful wings beating as he rose up into the skies.

It was that time of year again, the spring festival where the local municipalities gathered to make offerings to him for protection, prosperity, and fertility. Centuries ago when Sam had first approached the local people to set up the exchange, he had not been picky, allowing them to decide what they felt fair. The only stipulation that he’d included purely on a whim was that a person was to be offered, not sacrificed. They were to be alive and willing.

The heavy sent of burning clove reached his nose and Sam knew he was close. He wondered what this one would be like. Male or female, young or old. It did not matter. Flying low over the trees, Sam finally reached the field where the festival had taken place, and his offerings had been laid out.

The man, given his physique and the stubble on his face, was no youth. However, that was not what drew Sam’s attention. It wasn’t the fear the man was trying not to show (Sam would have thought something wrong with any man that did not show a little fear when faced with him). Nor was it the fact that the ropes binding him had rubbed his skin raw in places due to his struggles that made it clear he didn’t want to be here (a willing offering was a stipulation that Sam would need to remind his people of again). While the man was quite handsome, that was just a bonus and did not significantly interest him (Sam had seen much beauty in his millennia on this world). Neither was it the clear sign of the drugs that had been used to (unsuccessfully) subdue the man, so sharp Sam could taste them (that only angered Sam, that his offering would be sullied in such a way).

In fact, it was nothing outward that pulled at Sam. There was almost a scent but not quite skirting along the periphery of his senses. It tugged on the edges of his being, tantalizing him and all but beckoning him forward. Curious as he had not been in ages, Sam let himself follow the pull, lowering his head and snuffling at the man’s chest.

The man’s struggles increased as Sam moved forward, but he froze completely as Sam’s head dropped level with him, the size almost incomprehensible to him as Sam’s head was nearly as high as the man was tall. “Look, you really don’t want to eat me. I’m all tough and gristly. Won’t taste good at all. Why don’t you eat one of them?” Sam’s offering blurted, looking over at the tethered sheep that were bleating in terror.

Sam snorted in amusement. It wasn’t often that they talked back. At least not so early. He was spirited despite the drugs, Sam liked that. A quick movement of his foreleg, claws flashing, caused the man to shout, but his puzzlement was clear through his terror as the ropes fell from him and he remained untouched. Turning, Sam made quick work of the sheep, but his attention was still focused on the man, listening to the fast beating of his heart, the scent of blood and sweat, and the something more that he could not place. His long serpentine tongue shot out, licking his lips as he turned back towards the man who was now looking at him curiously. Sam was pleased to note that the man hadn’t tried to flee, not that he would have gotten far.

“The plan was never to eat me, was it?” his offering asked hesitantly.

Sam’s lips twisted in a semblance of a smile which on a dragon was truly terrifying, particularly given the size of his fangs. Snatching a finely made cloth from the pile of offerings, Sam offered it to the man, watching in amusement as the man blushed clear down his chest, obviously having forgotten about his nakedness as he hurriedly wrapped himself in it, mumbling his thanks. Gathering the rest of the items, Sam made a makeshift bundle of his offerings, noting how the selection this season was particularly sparse, and turned his attention back to the man.

Tired of referring to his offering as ‘the man’, Sam gave in to temptation and lowered his shields slightly, gently brushing his mind against the other’s. Sam jerked back as though struck by lightning and the man, no, _Dean_ reacted similarly, hissing in shock. How unexpected, how strange. Sam’s interest was fully piqued now, and Dean was staring at him as though he’d grown a second head.

“Was that—did you—” Dean cut off, clearly unsure what to ask and not at all happy with the situation. Finally he settled on, “You couldn’t possibly just forget you ever saw me and let me go on my way?”

Sam titled his head to the side. If that was what he wanted after Sam showed him what he could have, then so be it, but not until then. Sam had been wrong in the past, but he would bet a large portion of his horde that Dean would want to stay. A part of him was already laying claim to him, and Sam wasn’t sure that he could even let him go if he really wanted to leave, not without losing a piece of himself in the process. Dragons were fiercely possessive by nature, and even those that had chosen to part with him over the years, Sam kept close tabs on. They were never left wanting.

Sam lowered himself to his stomach, and Dean sighed. “Didn’t think so. What do you—” Dean broke off, finally taking note of the leather straps that encircled the base of Sam’s neck, forming a sort of crude harness. Eyes wide, he breathed, “You cannot mean….”

Sam’s foreleg shot out, offering his paw as an alternative, and Dean seemed to consider it briefly before finally settling on the straps.

Sam’s entire bulk quivered at Dean’s first hesitant touch against his side, Dean’s cooler skin trailing along the heat of Sam’s scales. Finally, he climbed up the cleverly placed holds until he reached the base of Sam’s neck. Turning his head, Sam took note of how Dean examined the straps before finally figuring it out and securing himself. Suddenly rising to his feet, Sam felt a flash of glee as Dean shouted and his blunt fingers scrambled for purchase. Sam, however, was sure of the security of his bindings and spreading his wings wide, taking off with a great leap.

For some time Dean clung desperately to Sam’s neck, pressing himself tightly against it. Slowly, gradually, Sam felt Dean relax, the steady beat of his wings lulling him. Dean’s hesitant movement and gasp told Sam that he’d finally opened his eyes and looked. The view truly was amazing.

It wasn’t much longer before Sam began his descent as the fish-rich lake came into view, the waters amazingly clear. This was where he revealed all, where he gave his past offerings a choice, where he would give Dean his as well.

As Sam fell, Dean laughed aloud, the sound full of giddy delight. When Sam finally landed it was surprisingly light and graceful given his size, and he truly loathed for it to end. There was something he was missing, but what, Sam did not know, though he was sure it was important.

It didn’t take Dean long to undo his bindings, sliding down Sam’s side without giving him time to lower himself.

Face radiant with joy, Dean collapsed back against the ground. “That was the most amazing thing ever. What I wouldn’t give for wings. The freedom. I envy you.”

Sam gathered himself about to change, when the sound of horses and men drew him, and he hissed in agitation. This was his spot, his territory and only those he bade welcome were allowed to enter. That he did not notice them sooner was a testament to the wrongness of the situation.

“You’ve got to get out of here. Run. Fly, just leave. Now!” Dean all but shouted, clearly recognizing the danger as well.

But Dean knew it was already too late, and when the whistles of arrows met his ears, he threw himself in front of Sam as though his miniscule size could protect him.

Sam just stepped over him, his fire making quick work of the arrows and with a roar of fury, he disposed of those that dared trespass where they did not belong. There was no negotiation as he was not in the mood for mercy. Such as these were not even fit for food.

Licking the blood from his muzzle, Sam spun around, alarmed as Dean suddenly vanished from his senses. Seeing Dean struggling against a man, no, a _mage_ , he realized with scorn as he saw his yellow eyes, Sam surged forward. He should have known. The void, the lack of recognition, how the men had been able to hide their presence. They’d been stupid to trust one such as this.

Dean faltered, the drugs clearly not out of his system yet, and the mage was quick to subdue him, holding a knife at Dean’s throat, causing Sam to freeze, and growl in rage. “Nuh uh uh, Samuel. I would not try that, or your offering might lose something important,” he mocked in a singsong voice. “It has been far too long since we have last met. I thought I would rectify that and share with you something I’ve learned.”

Tailing lashing angrily, Sam wracked his memories, trying to remember him but could recall nothing.

The mage laughed disdainfully at Sam’s puzzlement. “Of course you wouldn’t remember me. I was nothing to you. It was my sister you took. Your _offering_ ,” he all but spit the word, “thirty seasons past. Arielle.”

Arielle? This was about Arielle? She’d been one of the most willing offerings he’d ever had, more in awe of him than fearful, and completely eager to get away from her controlling family. She was still with him, and in fact, she all but ran his household now and had a large family of her own. She’d been so excited when he’d last seen her as her first grandchild was due any day now.

Something must have shown on Sam’s face as the mage’s face twisted in fury. “So you do remember her. How long was she your whore before you grew tired of her? How many of your spawn was she forced to conceive?” The knife in his hand suddenly glowed a bright white like the hottest of flames. “You don’t even know it yet, but I’m going to teach you what it means to lose the most important thing in the world to you.” Without pause, he shoved the knife into Dean’s heart causing him to scream in shared agony, and not a second later Sam was roaring in shared pain, rearing back on his hind legs as he screeched his hurt and fury to the world.

The mage was suddenly gone, blinking away and Dean dropped as though his strings had been cut and the pain disappeared just as quickly. Overwhelmed by the feeling of Dean, Sam dropped down, noting with worry the blood that flowed from Dean’s eyes, nose, and ears and how erratic his breathing and heartbeat was. There was no sign of the knife, no wound on his chest, and Sam could not help but worry what type of foul magic was at hand here, wondering at the mage’s parting words.

Sam’s tongue snaked out, lapping at the blood. The taste was like being hit by lightning, and Sam didn’t even think as he reacted, snatching Dean up gently and running, take flight, and using great strokes to put distance between them and the lake, knowing the mage was still out there.

Mate! This was his _mate_ , Sam realized with a sickening sense of clarity. How he hadn’t recognized it sooner he did not know. He hadn’t expected to ever find his, the vast majority of his race having passed on or gone to ground century prior. However, it appeared that blood did not lie. Somewhere in Dean’s ancestry was a dragon, and he was now Sam’s. And somehow the mage had known. It was impossible, and those that betrayed him would pay. For centuries, he had offered these people his protection. He never took more than they could afford, and they had prospered. They had grown complacent, and he had been lax with his reminders that they lived in safety because of him. They would not forget his lesson for a very long time.

But now was not the time for such thoughts. Now Sam had to care for his mate. His mate who did not even know him, yet stood between him and danger.

Sam slowed as he reached the waterfall on the other side of the mountain, quickly shifting forms as he burst through it to the hidden cave behind it. He tore off the cloth that Dean had draped around himself like a toga and laid him down, carefully examining him for wounds, not liking the grey tinge that his skin was taking on. He could not heal what he could not see, he did not even know what sort of magic had done this.

Dean couldn’t die, not now, not when Sam had just found him, when they didn’t even know the slightest things about each other. There was one option, one very taboo choice that in the end could destroy them, but Sam would take that chance. It was better Dean lived and hated him, than died and left him.

Resting back against the lichen slicked floor of the cave, Sam pulled Dean down against him, wrapping himself around him, his tail curling around Dean’s wrist possessively.

“Forgive me,” Sam whispered into Dean’s ear. Sharp teeth bit deeply into his wrist, and Sam forced the bleeding limb against Dean’s lips, massaging his throat to get him to swallow. Such a thing would likely kill a normal human, but blood called to blood and Sam’s would soon awaken Dean’s dormant genes, forcing them to the forefront and healing him in the process.

When the convulsions began, Sam held him through it, hating himself for this for so many reasons. To do this without permission was abominable. But there was no _choice_. If only he’d had time. If only—Sam cut himself off. Those types of thoughts would not help either of them. They could not change what happened. Sam just hoped that Dean could forgive him for this, that he wouldn’t hate him too much. Despite all the time he’d spent with humans, he truly did not understand their feelings, how easy to love and hate they were.

There would be no going back for Dean. He could play the part of human if he tried, but until he learned what he would soon fully be, it would not be safe for anyone involved. When finally the convulsions ended, Dean’s body went slack and his heart and breathing evened indicating a true sleep rather than trauma induced unconsciousness.

A flood of possession overtook Sam as he noted the patches of coppery scales that bloomed where they touched. It was a good sign, but Sam knew the worst wasn’t over yet. He’d never seen this himself, but he’d heard tales. If Dean did not have a regular supply of Sam’s blood, it would take weeks - if not longer - instead of days for his wings to fully develop and even so it would be agonizing. There was even the chance that without his blood they would never develop, leaving Dean crippled and living a half life, never to know the freedom of flight. Sam would not allow that to happen.

The hours passed with horrible slowness as Sam held Dean against him, memorizing his scent, his taste, his touch, the very essence of him because Sam wasn’t sure if Dean would allow it once he was conscious and learned what Sam had done to him.

Finally, Sam felt Dean begin to stir, and couldn’t help the way his tail tightened from its latest position wrapped around Dean’s thigh, fearful that he would pull away at any time and unable to bring himself to let him go so soon after he’d found him.

Sam was right to be fearful as Dean suddenly sat up and weakly pulled away from him, blinking owlishly at him in the dim light of the cave. “Who—what—how—You’re the dragon!?!” He shouted as he took in the wings, scales, and tail that still had not relinquished its hold on him. “What have you done? I shouldn’t be alive. He stabbed me in the heart. There’s no way—” Dean suddenly broke off, stumbling to his feet and looked down at himself, his breath coming rapidly as he took in the sight of the scales that were forming on his skin. “What have you done to me?”

Sam didn’t allow himself to flinch at that even though it seemed his nightmare was coming true. “I did what was necessary to ensure your survival.”

“Why? I’m just your sacrifice. Why am I so important that you would do this?” Dean demanded, clenching his hands together to stop their trembling.

Sam’s face twisted in frustration. “It appears the true purpose of the offering has been lost in recent years. You aren’t meant to be a sacrifice. I don’t eat humans.” Without good cause, he didn’t say out loud. “It was meant as an honor. I provide for the people that are given to me. They want for not, and they live good lives. They are happy.”

“Why? Dragons aren’t known for their altruism,” Dean asked suspiciously and suddenly swayed on his feet.

“Sit down,” Sam ordered, tugging him down. Dean scowled but moved, taking note once again of his nakedness and not so discretely covering himself. “I am a very old dragon. There are few of my kind left. Truth be told, I had grown lonely.”

“Lonely?” Dean scoffed in disbelief.

“Yes,” Sam agreed. “Is that truly so hard to believe? Dragons have much the same feelings as humans. We feel sorrow and joy just as you do.” Did, he mentally corrected as Dean was truly no longer human. “Is it so shocking that we would feel loneliness as well?”

“No, I’m sorry. It’s just so strange. This is a lot to take in.” A frown creased Dean’s face. “I don’t even know your name.

“Samuel is the closest thing to my true name in the human tongue, though you may call me Sam if you’d like.”

“Sam,” Dean said, testing the name. Suddenly he swore, and curled into himself, and Sam cursed as he saw the skin across his shoulder blades begin to bulge.

Dean threw his head back with an agonized scream as the small wing buds burst through the skin of his back. Sam did not hesitate to shove his wrist into Dean’s mouth, not even wincing as he instinctively bit down.

Agonizing minutes (hours?), later Dean finally pulled away, and locked Sam with clear eyes. “I hate you,” he said before he promptly passed out.

Catching him as he fell, Sam curled himself around him again. “I know,” he whispered back sorrowfully.

Dean woke on his stomach which was odd as he generally slept on his back. The softness of his bedding was also strange, but he was too comfortable to complain so let himself drift in half consciousness.

“Finally awake now, I see,” a female voice said.

Dean yelped, startled. Twisting, he hissed as his back protested and reached back instinctively checking for damage. Feeling, well, he wasn’t entirely sure what he felt but he could guess, brought with it the memories of what the dragon, of what _Sam_ the _dragon_ had done to him, of what the mage had done to him. Looking down at his chest, Dean searched for a wound, knowing that he’d been stabbed, remembering the agony of it, but there wasn’t so much as a scratch over his heart.

Finally remembering the voice of the woman who had woken him, Dean lifted his eyes to take in the form of an older woman dressed in strange hide pants and a loose tunic, whose plaited blonde hair was graying at the temples and whose deep laugh lines spoke of a happy life. “Who are you? Where am I? Where’s—” _Sam_? He couldn’t make himself say his name, so overcome by a confused knot of emotions, hate, sorrow, joy, anger all rolling into one great big tangle that he couldn’t even begin to figure out.

“Oh, how terribly rude of me. I’m Arielle, but everyone calls me Ari. Well, everyone but Sam. I manage the day to day affairs of the keep. I swear it would fall to pieces if I took a day off and Sam’s being silly and talking of me training a replacement, so I can ‘retire’. As if I’d leave here willingly. When I die, it will be here with my family, and not some posh house filled with strangers. Now enough about me. Are you hungry? We can start your tour in the kitchen. Marta made mulberry pie, and it’s just divine. You look like you could use a few meals to put some more meat on your bones.”

It was then that Dean realized he was half naked in front of a woman that he’d just met and bunched the sheets more between his legs, flushing as she laughed.

“Now dearie, I have seven children, all made the old fashioneded way, and you’ve nothing I have not seen before.” Motioning towards a bundle at the end of the bed, she continued, “Put those on, and we’ll get you some food.”

Dean eyes trailed her as she left the room, the door closing with a click behind him. Taking a moment to examine the room for the first time, Dean noted the plushness of the bedding, the ornately carved furniture, and the rows upon rows of books that lined the way across from him, more than he’d ever seen before. Shoving downwn the sheets, Dean rose and swayed unsteadily on his feet, his sense of gravity strangely off. Opening the bundle that Ari had indicated, Dean found a pair of hide pants of a similar design to those that she’d worn. Running his thumb over the surface, he marveled at the softness wondering what the material was for it was too fine to even be fawn skin. Lifting them, he frowned as he realized that was the only piece of clothing provided.

Slipping them on was like a caress, and Dean glanced at himself in the large mirror that was shoved in the corner. Catching sight of himself, he froze. It wasn’t the fact that the pants were indecently tight and left nothing to the imagination. After the last few days it was a miracle he had any modesty left at all. No in was the slight dusting of iridescent golden scales that dusted his arms and shoulders, shimmering as they caught the light. And his wings. Wings. He had _wings_! Small and damp looking compared to what he remembered of Sam’s in human form, but wings nonetheless. But most of all it was his eyes that drew Dean’s attention. They seemed to glow as if lit with an inner fire.

The door suddenly opened and Ari stuck her head in, causing Dean to start and stumble as he spun.

“Ah good. I was wondering if you’d gone back to sleep on me. Come now. We’ve much to do.”

Ari took Dean’s hand and all but dragged him down the hall and Dean was left floundering at the strangeness of it all, her lack of reaction to his scales and wings. But then if she spent time around Sam in his human form, maybe she was used to such strangeness. Maybe he did this to people all the time. But then Dean had only heard stories, myths that weren’t to be believed, yet here he was living it.

Something suddenly tickled at Dean’s mind, a memory, something the mage had said before he’d been stabbed.

“Arielle!” Dean exclaimed, causing her to stop and spin to face him. “That’s the name the mage used. For his sister. You’re the offering he was trying to avenge.”

Ari’s vibrant face clouded with sorrow. “Yes, it would seem that my brother dabbled where he shouldn’t have. It truly doesn’t surprise me, but I’m sorry you are paying for his indiscretion. I know it is not my place to speak of this, and Sam will be most cross with me for saying this, but give him the benefit of the doubt. What he did was not a decision he made lightly, and what’s done it done. You must accept that and what you are now.”

“I’m monstrous,” Dean hissed. Dean’s head suddenly twisted and his cheek stung with heat.

Ari was flushed, her hand clutched to her chest. “Do not say such a thing. You’ve seen Sam. He’s not a monster, and neither are you.”

Dean suddenly felt two years old again being chastised by his mother, and looked down unable to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry. This is just a lot to take in. I mean why me? Why this?”

Hands rising to cup Dean’s cheeks, Ari looked him in the eye. “I know you may not believe it yet, but you’ve been given a great gift. One that I am envious of. Do not be so quick to reject it. And I’ve already said too much. More than I should have. Sam will explain things to you. It’s his to tell.”

“When? I have so many questions. So much I need to know,” Dean almost begged, alarmingly close to tears.

“Later. There’s much to do before then. We still need to get you some food. I’m sure that will have you feeling right as rain. Come now,” Ari said, tugging on Dean’s hand.

Dean followed blindly not noticing Ari’s worried glance, his head buzzing with questions of which answers were not forthcoming.

Sam listened from around the corner, not having strayed far from Dean’s side since he’d returned them to the keep, unable to bring himself to lose the smell and scent of him, indulging in the little that he could when he knew he was not welcome. He’d known Arielle wouldn’t keep quiet, never able to keep her nose out of anything. It was both a blessing and a curse, and had he the power, had she the blood, Sam would have called forth her heritage long ago. Arielle would have made a fine dragon, and he knew that when her time passed he would mourn her like he had only a select few in his millennia of life.

Hearing Dean say he was monstrous took all of Sam’s self control to keep himself for rushing out there and show him just how very stunning he really was. But no, Sam knew that would be a mistake, and reigned himself in.

Dean moaned in pleasure as a dark head bobbed between his legs, the fingers of one hand knotting in the silken threads as the other drifted down to scratch at the sensitive scales where wings met back. He was rewarded with a growl that traveled through his cock and sent shockwaves of pleasure exploding across his senses.

“Sam,” he shouted, suddenly sitting up in bed, sticky sheets wrapped uncomfortably around him. Did he just—was that really— A sound across the room had his instant attention and Dean brushed bright red as he met Sam’s knowing gaze, his nostrils flaring as he took in the thick scent of sex and sweat. Suddenly filled with righteous anger, Dean hissed, “Get out.”

Sam didn’t move, just continued to stare, his silvery blue eyes swirling like the clouds in the sky before the storm. Then his lips twisted, revealing fangs as he smiled almost cruelly, mockingly. “That isn’t what you were saying a moment ago. Begging for me. Moaning to be taken.”

Hissing in fury, claws flashing, Dean sprang forward, only to land to a tangle of sheets on the floor, and blink owlishly around the room. Sam was nowhere to be seen. A dream within a dream, Dean realized, noting with a frown that his sheets were indeed a mess. A knock on the door startled him, and remembering Ari’s habit of barging in unannounced he shouted, “Just a moment!”

Wiping himself down, Dean tried to make himself presentable, and tugged his pants back on, grimacing as a flash of pain shot up his spine. With an unsteady gait, Dean opened the door, not prepared to find Sam standing on the other side, equally filled with trepidation and captivation.

Sam didn’t wait for an invitation to enter, just pushed forward, crowding into Dean who stumbled. Sam’s hand flashed out, catching Dean’s arm, and they both froze, Dean’s eyes riveted to the place where their skin met. “What is—”

Sam suddenly jerked away, closing the door and putting space between them, his wings closed tightly against his back, but quivering in agitation. “You’re in pain again. I can see it on your face.” _I can feel it._. “You need my blood or it will get worse, but I will not force it on you again.”

“Again?” Dean whispered, flashing of memories suddenly hitting him, of agony as Sam held him, of the anguish on Sam’s face as Dean told him ‘I hate you’.

“What is this? What did you do to me? Why me? I should be dead.” Dean asked softly, evenly, not revealing the swirling sea of emotions that he was currently drowning in.

“Never!” Sam suddenly growl, fangs bared. “I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice. Tell me why,” Dean demanded, feeling as though he was only seeing half the picture.

“You’re mine!”

“Yes, yes. I’m your offering and dragons are possessive, but—”

“You’re my _mate_ ,” Sam bit out.

Dean blinked owlishly at him before saying, “Um, in case you haven’t noticed we’re both male, and if these changes mean that I’m going to pop out baby dragons, I think I’m going to have to pass.”

Barking out a laugh, Sam was warmed by the fact that he hadn’t been outright rejected, at least not yet. “No, there will be no ‘baby dragons’, unless you decide to lie with a female. Dragon mates are matched pairs, sometimes trines. They complement each other. We complement each other. Somewhere in your ancestry was a dragon and that was why I could awaken your blood. Blood never lies. You’re mine, just as I am yours.”

Dean stood silent, brooding as the pain increased, trying his best to ignore it. “We know nothing about each other. How can I tell? Was it that feeling when you touched me?”

Sam took a step forward, closing the distance between them, Dean’s pain falling to him. “You’re still thinking like a human with human limitations. You’re a dragon now, and you must realize that, but for now you must either decide to drink or tell me to leave for I cannot suffer your pain any longer.” Despite knowing that the temptation would be near irresistible, Sam ran a claw over his collar bone watching as blood immediately welled to the surface.

Dean was instantly captivated, his nose flaring as he took in the scent and realization dawned on him. “It was your blood that Ari gave me. She said it was a dragon drink. I should have known.” Dean didn’t fight it, didn’t want to fight it, and willingly closed the remaining distance between them. Dropping his head, his tongue hesitantly shot out lapping at the blood, and one taste was all it took and he sucked eagerly on the wound. All too quickly the blood was gone and the wound was healed and Dean was left whimpering like an eager puppy, but at the moment he could care less about that because he just wanted _more_.

Sam chuckled at his antics. “You’re a dragon. Use your fangs.” The last word ended in a moan as Dean suddenly sank his teeth deep into the muscle of his shoulder, enthusiastically drinking the blood that welled forth.

Suddenly jerking back, heedless of the flesh he tore in the process, Dean screamed and tried to twist away, his hands now tipped with sharp claws reaching towards his back, but Sam’s own hands were suddenly there, stopping him. Mindless in his pain, Dean didn’t notice the furrows he scraped in Sam’s flesh, the damage he did to Sam’s arm as it was shoved into his mouth to prevent him from biting off his tongue.

Sam did his best to restrain him, trying to minimize the damage Dean did to himself, uncaring of the harm done to him. The sounds Dean made, the agony he was in, was a far worse pain for Sam to bear than any physical injury he received. Finally, with one last aggrieved whine, Dean’s tail burst from the base of his spine as his wings flared wide, impressive despite the fact that they were not nearly full size yet.

Loosening his grip on Dean’s arms, Sam flinched as Dean’s hand suddenly wrapped around a very sensitive part of his anatomy, and Sam’s eyes closed expecting pain. However, instead of pain, he was rewarded with a soft caress. He opened his eyes to meet Dean’s own which were heavy lidded with exhaustion. He licked apologetically at Sam’s arm, his fingers caressing the link of Sam’s tail that wasn’t wrapped possessively around Dean’s thigh.

Dropping his head to Sam’s shoulder, Dean whispered, “Thank you,” before he went unexpectedly limp in Sam’s startled embrace.

Gratitude was the last thing Sam had anticipated in the situation, having fully expected a repeat of the cave. Carrying Dean to his bed, Sam stripped off their pants and began the process of cleaning him, recommitting the taste of Dean’s blood and sweat to his memory, savoring the remnants of the semen left like it was the finest ambrosia, leaving no place untouched. Sam had heard him, smelt him, and had debated the possibility of joining him when he realized he was the subject of Dean’s dream. It had been oh so tempting, but in the end, Dean had taken the decision from him and woken up before Sam made up his mind.

The temptation to stay was strong, to wrap himself around Dean and curl up like Sam did with his horde, but Dean was worth so much more of that. It was Sam’s own chambers that Dean slept in, covering himself in Sam’s sheets when it was Sam himself that had just wished to hold him. Finally the call of exhaustion was too great, and with the scent of Dean heavy around him, Sam let himself drift, lulled by the presence of his mate in his embrace.

Some future timestamp (because [](http://smut_slut.livejournal.com/profile)[**smut_slut**](http://smut_slut.livejournal.com/) wanted smut, but it didn’t want to fit in the fic)

Dean moaned in pleasure as a dark head bobbed between his legs, the fingers of one hand knotting in the silken threads as the other drifted down to scratch at the sensitive scales were wings met back. He was reward with a growl that traveled through his cock and sent shockwaves of pleasure exploding across his senses.

A slick finger suddenly slid into his ass, massaging his prostate, and Dean shouted, “Sam!”

Floating in the aftershocks, Dean jolted as he felt the bed move, and a warm body curled up against him. Wide eyed, Dean took in Sam’s frame against his own, their positions chest to chest on their sides, the unmistakable feel of Sam’s hard length against his sated flesh, the cat that ate the canary smile that graced his face and the self-satisfied gleam in his eyes. A sudden twist of the finger still in his ass had Dean yelping, then twisting as he realized that neither of Sam’s hands were near his ass, noting in disbelief that it was his tail.

Sam laughed, a wonderful sound, and reached to caress the length of Dean’s new tail. He chuckled as it wrapped around his fingers, and Dean went instantly hard against him with a moan. “Take it slow.”

“Screw slow,” Dean said, digging his fingers into Sam’s biceps, scraping teasingly at his scales as he pulled him into a deep kiss. This wasn’t what he expected when he found he was to be an offering to a dragon, but there were definitely worse situations to be in.


End file.
